


Not the Bacon Incident

by onecent



Series: Winterhawk Week 2016 [4]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Deaf Clint Barton, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Police AU, Winterhawk Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-06-10 04:11:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6939109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onecent/pseuds/onecent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Steve, partners on the force, share a car and have a lot of downtime together. One day, Steve decided to buy a pack of bacon while they were on break. Clint decided to experiment with the bacon. Everything ended badly.</p><p>This is not that story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Clint shifts the bags he’s carrying all onto one arm and knocks on the door. Someone inside shouts over the general noise of a party, which Clint takes as an invitation to come in. He shuffles inside and starts heading for the noisiest part of the house. He steps around the corner into the living room, which is full of people laughing and talking.

“Hey!” Steve waves to him above the crowd. “You made it!”

Clint nods back and threads his way through the people toward the kitchen where Steve is standing. He places his bags down on the counter. “I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t have bothered to buy more beer,” he says, looking at the bottles already lined up on the counter.

“Nah, it’s fine. We’ll use it eventually.” Steve claps Clint on the back. “Hey, you haven’t met Sam yet! Sam, get that cute butt of yours over here.”

One of the men on the other side of the kitchen turns and smiles at Steve. He excuses himself from the group he’s talking to before wandering over.

“Hey, Sam Wilson,” he says, holding out his hand.

“Clint Barton. My condolences on signing up to deal with this idiot.” Clint grins and nods his head toward Steve.

Sam chuckles. “Yeah, he’s a lughead, but I’ve never really gotten over the way he fills out his shirts. Nice to finally meet the guy who he puts up with at work, though. I’ve heard some fascinating stories about you.”

Clint flinches. “Mostly good stories, I hope.”

“Nothing too bad, not to worry. Though the bacon--”

“Aw, come on, that was one time! And Steve was right there with me.”

Sam laughs. “All right, if you say so.” There’s another knock over the sound of the crowd. “Hey, I gotta go check on that. Make yourself at home, find someone to talk to. I’ll see you again later.”

Clint nods appreciatively as he watches Sam leave. “Not bad, Rogers,” he says. “Cute and competent.”

“Stop checking out my boyfriend,” Steve says. “Go find someone to talk to. Lots of people here, I’m sure you can find someone who’ll talk Dog Cops with you.”

“Yeah, all right.” Clint grabs a beer and pops it open on the counter. He tosses the lid into the open trash can by the back door and looks for a place to stand. He ends up along a back wall, looking out over everyone and wishing that his hearing aids worked better in crowds.

After a few minutes he realizes he’s not the only person hovering along the back wall. Another man leans against the wall, nursing a drink in one hand and keeping the other folded tight against his chest. Clint looks him over out of the corner of one eye.

The guy is dressed in a black t-shirt and dark jeans. He’s got brown hair hanging to his chin, and his eyes dart around the room like he’s expecting an attack. Despite how nervous he seems, or maybe because of it, Clint decides to scoot down to stand next to him. It might also be because of how hot the guy is, but Clint decides not to spend too much time focusing on that.

“Not fond of crowds?” he asks.

The guy might say something, but Clint can’t hear it over the buzz of conversation in the room.

“You’ll have to speak up.” Clint reaches up to tap at his ear. “Too much noise interferes with these.”

In response, hot guy jerks his head toward the back door while hooking a thumb over his shoulder. His eyebrows raise in a question. Clint nods and follows him out to the back porch, where there are fewer people scattered farther apart.

“That’s better,” Clint says, relaxing against the railing. “I’m Clint, by the way.”

“Bucky,” the guy responded. “You’re Steve’s partner, right?”

“Yeah. You’re a friend of his?”

“Best friend.” Bucky leans against the railing next to Clint. “And ex-roommate now. Sap’s abandoning me to move in here. I can’t decide yet if I’m gonna miss the punk or if I’m just excited to have my own place so he’ll stop judging me when I don’t recycle the milk carton.”

Clint laughs. “Yeah, I can understand that. He’s a great guy, but he gets a little intense about things.” He takes a drink of his beer and another minute to admire Bucky and the way the sun brings out streaks of blue in his grey eyes. “Like the squad car. He ever let you ride around in it?”

Bucky shakes his head. “It never really came up.”

“Well that is a damn shame. Everyone deserves the chance to ride around in the squad car at least once. Actually, I could take you around now, if you’re interested.”

“Yeah?” Bucky is grinning. “Before or after you finish that beer?”

Clint sets the drink down on the porch table. “It’s not that great anyway. Come on, I’m getting a little claustrophobic here.”

“All right.” Bucky sets his drink on the table next to Clint’s. “How do we want to do this? Are we telling Steve we’re taking his car?”

“Hell no.” Clint holds up his key ring. “I’ve got the spare key if you can show me where he keeps the car.”

\----------

Clint parks up at the top of the hill, on a dirt pullout that overlooks the city.

“Lover’s lookout?” Bucky says, grinning at him from the passenger seat. “Really?”

“Call it a force of habit? Our patrol runs by here, so I’ve spent quite a few nights chasing people away from here.”

“Is that the only reason you came up here?”

“Well, the view is pretty good.”

“Yeah?”

“And so is the sight of the city.”

Bucky grins. “Smooth.”

“You like that?” Clint smiles back, wide and toothy. “Because I have plenty more of those.”

“I’ll take your word for it. And Steve’s. He’s spent a lot of time bemoaning your bad jokes.”

“My jokes are a gift from heaven,” Clint says, holding a hand to his chest. “Just like that jawline you’ve got.”

Bucky barks out a laugh. “Are you going to throw every bad pick-up line at me tonight?”

“Maybe.” Clint throws his arm up over the back of Bucky’s seat. “Or maybe I’ll just keep going until I find one that works.”

“You know,” Bucky says, leaning in, “you are damn lucky you’re so cute.”

Clint’s eyes flutter closed as he leans in just a little more…

BANG! The loud knock on the window makes Clint jump. He turns slowly to see who’s outside the car. The sight of a blue uniform makes him wince as he rolls down the window.

“Uh. Hey...Carol,” he says slowly, waving up at her. “How’s it going?”

“No,” she says simply.

“Sorry?”

“I wouldn’t put up with it from Rogers and I’m not putting up with it from you.”

“Uh...what?”

Carol leans down and nods at Bucky. “Sorry about this, sir, but I’m--Barnes?”

Bucky waves two fingers in a small salute. “Hey, Danvers.”

“Oh for the love of...no. I’m not putting up with this. Get out of here. Go find a hotel room or something. And be glad I caught you now. You don’t want to know how I found out Rogers was bringing his pal up here.”

Clint goes wide-eyed and looks from Carol to Bucky and then, slowly, to the back seat. “Oh my god,” he whispers.

“So we’re clear, then?” Carol says. “I trust you two will find somewhere else to spend your evening. Maybe try a movie. Or dinner.” She raises a finger to her forehead. “Have a good evening. Barton. Barnes.”

Both men wave after her, and Clint drops his head to the steering wheel. He can feel the heat in his face and doesn’t even want to see how Bucky is responding.

“I am so sorry,” he says.

“It’s fine,” Bucky replies. “I’m choosing to take this as an opportunity to rib Steve for something else.”

“Yeah, that’s a good outlook.” Clint turns on the car and puts it in reverse. “So, uh. How do you know Carol?”

“We used to work together,” Bucky says. “Before I lost my arm.”

“You what?” Clint stops the car before pulling onto the highway and looks down at the arm still resting in Bucky’s lap. “Holy shit, I didn’t even notice.”

“Yeah, most people don’t, as long as I don’t use it too much.” Bucky raises his left arm, and now that Clint is actually looking at it he notices that the fake flesh is slightly off from Bucky’s actual coloring.

“Sorry about your arm. How long ago did that happen?” Clint checks for cars and starts driving back down the hill.

Bucky shrugs. “Couple years. I’m pretty used to it by now.”

“That’s cool.” Clint doesn’t bother to ask how it happened. He doesn’t like sharing about his ears, and he figures if Bucky wants to talk about his arm he can do it on his own terms. “So, you want me to drive you back to Steve’s place?”

Bucky slumps a little in the seat. “Yeah, sure, that’s fine I guess.”

Clint turns to glance at Bucky for a minute before turning back to the road. “Or if you’re interested I can actually take you out to dinner and a movie. Carol’s a pretty smart lady. I usually find it’s best to take her advice.”

“She is pretty smart,” Bucky says, his smile growing again. “But I think she forgot that there’s nothing good in theaters right now.”

“Au contraire, mon ami,” Clint attempted to say but probably bungled because French was really not his thing. “I happen to know of a drive-in theater that is doing a showing of Roman Holiday, if you’re interested in that kind of thing.”

“I could probably get interested. We’ll have to come up with something to do until it gets dark out, though.” Bucky looks out the window at the sun, which still hangs fairly high in the sky.

Clint grins. “I hope you like pizza.”

\----------

_Steve: I have your car. Give me mine back._

_Steve: Barton, this isn’t funny. I need that to get to work tomorrow._

_Steve: Where the hell did you go? Why aren’t you answering your phone?_

_Steve: I swear to everything that is holy on this planet that if you do not answer your phone I will go to your house and steal your dog._

_Clint: I’ll give you the car back tomorrow. Ask Sam to give you a ride to work._

_Steve: Where are you?! You can’t just take the car without asking, or disappear from a party! What did you do?_

_Clint: Found Carol she said to ask what you did in the car_

_Steve: You’d better not get her scratched up._

\----------

Someone is shaking him. Clint was lying in a nice warm bed and just getting started on a really nice dream and now someone is shaking him awake and he swats at them to make them leave him alone.

The shaking turns into pulling the blankets away, and Clint struggles to stay covered but is quickly left lying in the cold. He groans and blinks his eyes open to see Bucky sitting next to him, holding out something in his hand.

“What the hell, man? Can’t you just let me sleep?”

Bucky glares and continues to hold out his hand. Clint sighs and reaches out, and Bucky drops his hearing aids into his palm. Clint sits up and pops them into place.

“Yeah?”

“You were the one that asked me to get you up so you could go to work,” Bucky says. “Now get up.” He shoves at Clint’s shoulder.

Clint rolls out of bed and starts to look for his clothes. When he turns around, Bucky’s curled back up with the blankets and is snuggling into the pillow. “Hey!”

“You’re the one who has to go in early,” Bucky says. “My job doesn’t start for another two hours.”

Clint grumbles as he patters around the room picking out his clothes from the others on the ground. He heads to the bathroom to clean up and vindictively steals one of the to-go coffee cups from Bucky’s cupboard - a silver one with a red star painted on the side - that he fills with the blackest coffee he can make. After checking to make sure the squad car isn’t actually dinged up from its night out, he heads in to work.

Steve meets him in the lobby, frowning, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re late,” he says.

“By like, five minutes,” Clint responds, taking a sip of coffee. “And the car’s fine.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “Where did you get that mug?”

“From your friend Bucky’s place. What did you think I was doing last night?”

“Well definitely not that!” Steve splutters and follows Clint to the locker room so they can get into uniform. “How the hell did you two even...I mean…”

“You told me to find someone to talk to. He looked just as uncomfortable at your party as I did, so I offered to drive him around in the squad car. Which, frankly, I am shocked that you never offered to do. Seeing as you’re so free about taking certain others with you--”

“Please don’t finish that.” Steve closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. After a moment, he snorts. Then the snort turns into a chuckle, and then into a full laugh. “Just...just double-checking,” he says, looking up at Clint and putting his hand on his chin. “You flirted with Bucky by offering to take him out in the squad car?”

“Yes. And it worked exceptionally well. I’m thinking I might offer to take him out again.” Clint finishes buttoning up his shirt and checks to make sure everything is in place.

Steve is still smiling, trying and failing to hide it behind his hand. “And you didn’t, uh, didn’t ask Bucky what he does for a living?”

“No, it didn’t really come up.” Clint narrows his eyes. “Why?” They step out of the locker room together and just spot Carol walking past.

“Hey, Carol!” Steve calls out. “Do me a favor and tell Clint here where you know Bucky from.”

Carol frowns at both of them. “We worked as beat cops together before he got promoted up to detective,” she says as she crosses her arms over her chest. “That’s when I got transferred over here to work with you morons.”

Clint stands in the hallway next to Steve, his mouth gaping like a fish while Steve laughs next to him. After a second, Steve’s phone buzzes and he pulls it out. It sets off a new peal of laughter, and Steve only just manages to pass the phone over to Clint.

_Tell your buddy he’d better return my mug. And ask him what he wants for dinner._

While he’s still holding the phone and glaring at Steve, it buzzes again.

_Also get me his number. How dare you not tell me the bacon idiot was hot._

“Oh my god, how many times do I have to tell everyone that the bacon was your fault!”


	2. The Bacon Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By popular demand...

“Hey, grab me another beer while you’re up.” Clint slides five dollars across the slightly sticky table.

“One for me, too.” Steve goes for his wallet, and Sam elbows him lightly in the chest. “Better make it two.”

Bucky looks at Clint. “Aren’t you going to buy me a drink?” he asks.

“Buy your own damn beer.” Clint tips his head back to finish off the glass he already has. He lets out a high whimper and squirms in his seat before putting his empty drink down and glaring at Bucky. “Dammit, man, don’t do that!”

Bucky pulls his hand back up onto the table and does his best to look innocent while everyone else just sighs and finishes handing money over to Scott, who looks frankly alarmed at the number of drinks he’s being asked to carry.

“So that was two, three, four, five…” he mutters to himself.

“Don’t get me any of that pansy stuff, either, like Rogers drinks,” Carol says, leaning forward onto the table. “I like my drinks strong and dark.”

Scott just freezes for a moment, as if anticipating a fight. Then he slowly backs away from the table and practically bolts for the bar. The others at the table watch him go before breaking up into laughter.

“So how long are we picking on the new guy?” Sam asks the group.

“Until there’s another new guy,” Clint says with a shrug. “Same as happens with everyone.”

“I figure he’s got another couple weeks.” Steve slips an arm around Sam’s waist and scoots in closer to make more room at the booth. “Then Clint’ll go back to being the regular stooge.”

Clint frowns. “Aw, come on guys. It’s not like I even do anything that bad!”

“In fact, he’s rather good at some things,” Bucky deadpans. There’s a flicker of mirth in his eyes as everyone else at the table dramatically rolls their eyes.

“Thank you. At least someone here sticks up for me.” Clint slides his right hand into Bucky’s back pocket and pulls him close.

“In fact,” Bucky continues, “I challenge anyone here to find me someone better able to destroy a perfectly simple waffle recipe.”

“Okay, you know what, I take it back. Fuck you.” Clint pinches Bucky’s butt through his jeans.

Bucky just raises an eyebrow. “Here? Everyone’s watching.”

Carol looks from side to side. “Why did I sit in the back corner?” she mutters. “I should’ve known better. Maybe I can just go over the table.”

“It’s all right, Clint,” Sam says. “Steve can’t manage to make french toast. And we all know just how bad you are with bacon. Not everyone can do breakfast food.

“Is this about the bacon story that no one will tell me?” Scott arrives at the table with a tray full of drinks. He sets it down and starts passing out glasses. “You guys have me half convinced that you tried to stuff bacon down Fury’s pants or plastered it all over Hill’s desk.”

“What? Oh god no!” Steve looks mortified by the idea. “All we did—“

Clint launches himself across the table to hold a finger up to Steve’s lips. “Are you kidding me?” He glares at Steve. “Two years of telling you not to share that story with anyone and you still haven’t learned?”

“Dude, it’s not that big a deal,” Sam says. “They just—“

“No! No, no, if anyone is going to tell this story, it’s going to be me.” Clint sits back in the seat and turns to Scott. “I’ve had enough of everyone getting the wrong version here, so I’m going to explain to you exactly what happened.

“First thing you need to know, Steve started it. Second, it was August, which means it was blistering hot and there was a series of thefts of various electronics stores, and we were asked to wait outside of a place that we were sure was going to get hit. The place was called Dickies, you know the one, down off Tomlinson? Went in there once to get a blu-ray player and they had horrible customer service and a worse selection, so I’m not sure why anyone would want to rob them, but anyway, that’s where we were. And we’re sitting there and across the street is this ice cream truck, playing the same goddamn song over and over—“

A hand claps down over Clint’s mouth. Bucky pulls him back to his chest and presses his open mouth to a spot just behind Clint’s ear. Across the table, Sam calls, “Now, Steve!”

“We tried to cook bacon in the car,” Steve says.

Clint pulls Bucky’s hand away. “No fair! You spoiled the ending!” he whines. “And you," he turns to poke Bucky in the chest, "were playing dirty.”

Bucky whispers into Clint’s ear, making him blush, while Scott just wrinkles his nose. “That’s it? That’s the bacon incident? You didn’t try to wear it as a mask and burst in to face down a killer, or attempt to launch it across the street in substitution of actual weaponry?”

Steve groans. “Please stop, you’re giving him ideas.”

“The car stank.” Sam crosses his arms over his chest. “For weeks. They tried to clean it over and over, put in air fresheners, left the windows down. I swear when it gets really hot that thing still reeks of rotten meat.”

“Okay, that’s pretty bad but…seriously? That’s the bacon incident? What was he talking about with an ice cream truck, then?” Scott turns to Clint, but instead of getting an explanation he nearly gets a hand shoved in his face.

“All right, that’s enough interrogation,” Clint says, pushing at Scott’s shoulder. “Out of the booth, I need to leave. Right now. Immediately.” He keeps one hand stretched back toward Bucky, who scoots out after him. “We have an emergency at home and I need to be there and definitely not here right now.”

“Problem with the dog?” Scott asks. Everyone else at the table groans, and Bucky and Clint make it all the way outside before falling into another kiss as they try to hail a cab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now edited for tense issues. Because what was I doing here.

**Author's Note:**

> [girlouttaplace](http://girlouttaplace.tumblr.com) on tumblr


End file.
